Loss for words

I started this blog about a month ago, soon after Bruno passed away. A million memories and thoughts were rushing in my head and it seemed inadequate to put it in one article. Since then, apart from a few pictures and one really cute video, I haven't uploaded anything at all. That isn't because I have been busy, or haven't thought about it, but losing Bruno seems more and more unreal as days go by and it has become increasingly difficult to write in his memory.
I landed in Pune on 21st November, exactly a month after he passed away, to spend a week at home, and also to bring in my mother's 60th birthday. This trip was planned months ago, in fact the original plan was to surprise my parents, and perhaps pack up and drive out for a holiday with Bruno and them. Things didn't exactly go according to plan, I ended up telling them about my visit, we didn't drive out on any holiday, and we all missed Bruno all the time.
Bianca, our earlier fox terrier died in my arms in 2001. I cried every time I went home for a whole month. The mornings seemed empty, and nobody displays as much affection to see you when you get home as dog. Bruno played a different role in our lives - sure he greeted us every time we went home, and sure his face always stuck out of the window waiting to see when we would get back. He would wake me up in the mornings, first gently and then by dropping the ball on my feet. When that didn't get him any response, he would patiently lie at my feet until he decided I had slept enough and then would drop the ball near my face and demand vocally that I get up and play.
Bruno didn't allow us to be bored at home, any extra time was play time. Vasishta, my brother, invented a whole bunch of creative, energetic games which Bruno got addicted to. When Vasishta wasn't around, Bruno almost instructed us to play those games the same way, because the old game of fetch became lame by his standards. Bruno was the energy, the life of the home, and not having him around really leaves an indescribable void.
I haven't written on this blog because I haven't found the words. Emotions are too strong and sentences seem too weak. We could never get another Bruno in our lives, he was too special. Yes, in my life there is always room for another dog, but thats a whole new journey with brand new memories.

Bruno in the shower

The Gangulys

Our Numero Bruno

7 years ago my brother and I brought home a tiny little fox terrier, the smallest and liveliest of the litter, wondering how happy he would be with life in an apartment. That too, in a country like ours, where society has no space for pure and unconditional friendships that pets have to offer. We always lived in a big house, that’s where we spent 11 years with Bianca (also a fox terrier), and none of us had any idea what it would be like to bring up a dog in a tiny flat. Hoping that our decision to bring a dog home wasn’t very selfish, we quickly settled in to a routine that revolved only around our Bruno.

The day we brought Bruno in, he fell really sick and brought out all the food that went into his little stomach. The very first night was a sleepless night, and we slowly fed him small spoonfuls of Horlicks, hoping at some point it would stay in his stomach.  Fortunately he made it through the night, and quickly grew to be a healthy strong dog, a little too large for his breed, and with endless energy to play. He would hang from the loose ropes under the diwan (a low bed with a base made of rope) and swing, hold on to our jeans when we walked around the house and slide along wherever we went. He would jump from behind my chair and pull out the bands that were holding my hair up, and play tug of war with his leash, refusing to let go even if all his four legs were hanging in mid air. He’d go scurrying across the fields like a little rabbit, chasing the ball at top speed. His game of fetch was rather stylized, he’d run past the ball, and then skid on the ground to brake while he turned around and caught it while it rolled towards him. His elbows and knees would be red and sore at the end of each playing session, but the laughter on his face made it clear that it was no reason for us to stop the game. His extra rough sessions of ball with my brother, during which this tiny little dog had to do the impossible to physically keep up with a 6-foot tall athletic human, became an obsession for him, and he made sure that we all spent some time each day playing ball with him in exactly the same way.

Bruno loved water and hated a bath. He would jump into any stream or pond, take a quick dip into a lake when he got the chance, and even stand under the shower a few minutes if we let it run for him. But as soon as he found out that we had an intention of cleaning him up, he would kick and scream with incredible strength, that at the end of it, the place looked like a wrecked battlefield.

Bruno was a part of our family, as much as he was a part of our lives. He went everywhere with my parents – that is everywhere possible in Indian society. It’s funny that we come from a culture that speaks of compassion and tolerance, and yet more than 90% of our urban population think that friendship with a dog is strange, to say the least. Bruno broke this barrier with almost everybody he met. He was welcomed into homes of family and friend, and had his own equation with everyone he met. He knew the streets that led to various people’s houses, and has even travelled across the country visit temples and beaches and forests and countryside. In fact, Bruno has seen more of India in the last 7 years that I have, and I consider myself an addicted traveler.

Bruno’s favourite places were the land and Balukaka’s house. He would perk up at the mention of both these places. The land is a small plot with a crooked house that my parents have built and struggled to keep beautiful over the last few years. Taking Bruno to the land always added to the beauty of the place. He played all the time that we were there, loved roaming around the countryside, and walked around like he owned the place. Between my brother, Bruno and I, it was always clear that he was most likely to inherit this place from my parents. Balukaka’s house was filled with Bruno fans. Everyone loved him there, and looked forward to his visits. He knew where they kept the ball, he knew that he would always get a special something to eat, and always made just the right expressions to keep all his fans swooning.

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Bruno had his ups and downs with his health, especially in the last few years. A combination of bad luck and bad genes (I strongly suspect that the fox terriers in Pune are heavily in-bred) brought him a series of health concerns over the last couple of years. Very careful care by the best caretakers in the world (my parents) and excellent veterinary advice kept him lively and happy and I believe we were well on our way to conquering all his illnesses. I last met Bruno on 27^th September 2010. He was well and happy, enjoying the pampering he was receiving at home, and full of energy to play the same rough game of ball he has played all his life. I had no doubt that he would be better soon. My parents went on another holiday with him toward Madhya Pradesh, something I would have recommended considering how fit and fine he was when I last met him. We all suspect that exposure to deadly pesticide ridden air on this trip affect his health fatally. The first symptoms came on the 5^th of October 2010 when he suddenly lost complete vision in both eyes even while he was in the middle of a game of ball. The sequence of events thereafter is well described in my father’s blog (http://caprarius-aquacorn.blogspot.com/). I called home several times a day and even got lucky with an official visit to India, which meant I could meet Bruno again on 23^rd October 2010. I made several internet purchases, to buy a whole bunch of toys and dog accessories that would help a blind dog live a complete life. The care and attention given to him by my parents and the vet cannot be matched. Bruno tried his very best to stay back with us, but lost the battle on 21^st October 2010 (Thursday – my earlier dog, Bianca, also died on a Thursday). He was buried in the land, the place he never wanted to leave, and yet it pulls the heart strings to drive away from there without him.

Mixed feelings of anger and despair fill us all every now and then at how the country can be so unsafe for an unsuspecting family setting out on a holiday, but memories of Bruno through pictures and videos taken over the last seven years only remind us of how lucky we were to have had him as a part of our lives. I would rather regret the things that we did, than the things that we didn’t do, and believe that every decision and action taken in the last 7 years has only enhanced our experiences with this wonder dog. It is impossible say everything that I want to say in one go, and this blog is dedicated to experiences and stories and videos and moments of happiness that we have been lucky to have in the years that have gone by.